They traded places again, and she clicked the Start Game icon, this time negotiating the first level with more ease. He stood behind her, and peered down the loose fitting tank top, getting at last an unobstructed view of her developing breasts. Gently, he slid his hands forward from her shoulders and, encountering no resistance or feedback from her as his fingertips approached her collarbone, he went further, until he was touching just above the breasts themselves. He was curious whether he would feel the nipples start to harden up like he'd seen in pictures. "Hey, stop that," she said before he reached them. "You're doing good, past that guard," he said, changing the subject back to the game. He moved his hands back up an inch or so, and stroked gently, his first-ever touch of nookie so tantalizingly close. Already hard minutes ago at the thought of this, his erection was absolutely full now. "I mean it, stop it," she repeated, still giving complete attention to the opponents on the screen. He tried to think of something worth saying, and coming up empty he just continued stroking below her collarbone, realizing that she was not backing up her words with any physical hindrance. He bent forward far enough to kiss her on the neck. She wriggled slightly to try to shoo him, but not to any effect.

"That tickles," she protested. "But it feels good, don't it?" he countered. "I didn't come here for that. For anything heavy I mean. I just thought we could, y'know, chillax," she said, ignoring his specific question. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her skin, and asked "but this is relaxing, isn't it? Doesn't it feel good?" "I mean it," she repeated, "stop it, I don't wanna, wanna, shit, now see what you did?" Two attack sims had ambushed her in rapid succession from different sides, and her character was dead. "Your turn," she said.

He didn't move his hands off her, and said "nah, you can go again if you want." She shifted to get up and said, "no, you're better, let me watch you." Unwillingly, he let her slide away from his touch. He sat down, noting the warmth of the chair seat which a moment earlier had been in close proximity to what he desired even more than her chest. She stood behind him, and lightly rested both her arms on his big shoulders.

He began the game, and she said idly, "I don't understand why guys are always so obsessed with boobs." He chuckled and said, "what do you think? I mean, did you ever ask your brother?"

"Oh good lord no," she said, "he'd croak if I asked him something like that. He'd croak if he even knew I was here with you, actually. For an eighth grader he acts more like a kindergartner sometimes. You're much cooler, Dylan. More mature, even if he is your same age. Even I'm more mature than him, I think. My teacher last year said I have an old soul, whatever that means. Look out, oh good, you got the, what, ninja priest, is that what he was? Anyway, that's more like what I'd talk to my sister about. I mean, she told me once, her boyfriend is always trying to suck hers. It's like Francisco's obsessed, y'know. Or a perv. I mean, April's more developed than me, of course, though she's almost 16 and she really only started developing when she was 14. She showed me, couple years ago - her nipples got huge, all in like one summer. Though, I got my period younger than she ever did; which is the opposite of what they say, since she's always carried a little more weight. Mom says that's just her side of the family for ya. My friend Amber and I are the only ones in sixth to even have our periods yet. I'm starting to get hair down there, too. So maybe my boobs are about to grow fast too - they started last year but kind of stopped. But anyway, I don't understand what the big deal is, for guys. They're just boobs. They're for babies, and most girls don't want babies as boyfriends, do they? Ha ha. April says it's not that big a deal for her, so she lets him sometimes, even though she knows it just means he's trying to get into her pants. She can't really stop him from groping her, when you come right down to it. But why do they do it? I don't get it. I mean, even with just looking at pictures, guys are always going on and on and on about girls' boobs. Obsessed. And mine aren't even big yet, but you're trying to grab them."

"Take your shirt off, and I'll show you," he offered, finally able to get a word in edgewise. Her brother could be the same way after just one joint as well, he thought - super talkative. "You mean, you want me to show you," she corrected.

"No," he said, "I mean I'll show you what it's like. What it feels like. It's a total turnon." He realized as he said it that he must sound like he was reading a line from some magazine - Playboy or (worse) Cosmo. "A turnon for the guy, more like. That's what I don't understand. What's the big deal?" "I can show you. You'd like it, especially if you're high," he promised.

"No, I don't want you to show me, and I don't want any more weed. Just explain it, that's all I was asking." "I don't think it can be explained," he said, "some things just have to be experienced." "Then you're as big a perv as Francisco, with boobs on the brain," she said reproachfully. "I'd rather have them on my tongue," he said.

She didn't distance herself from him, however, and dragged an index finger playfully across his ear. "You know how I know Frankie's a perv?" she asked conspiratorially. "You just said," he answered, "which is just your opinion by the way." "No, I mean besides that." "I dunno, what?" "It's 'cause, whenever he's over, and I walk by in my bare feet or sandals, he stares at my feet. He tries to hide it, but I catch him, all the time. Gross, huh?" She continued tracing his ear with her finger as she spoke.

"How'm I supposed to concentrate if you do that?" he asked, ignoring the critique of the older kid's apparent fetish. "Like that's half as bad as what you were trying to do to me?" she replied. "I thought you said you didn't understand why it's a turnon," he said. "What," she said, "you think it's supposed to put me in a trance or something, and then I'll put out? That's what Frankie says about April. But I don't believe that either. He's such a liar. I think she just decides to do it sometimes, and lets him think it has something to do with him having boobs on the brain, since he's going to think that anyway." "Maybe he's not lying," he said. "Nah," she replied, "she just does it because he's cute." "Am I cute?" he inquired. "Not like Fran-ceee-sco, so don't get a big ego," she said. "It's not my ego that's big," he bragged, "and anyway I think you liked it when I touched you,"

"Well, whatever, it wasn't turning me on, it just tickled. It was annoying. You saw what happened, I died when I shouldn't have." "You just weren't paying attention. I wasn't hurting anything. Here, let me pause this, and you take over. I've gotten this one going so that you can take him right up to level three." "That's OK, I'm not that good at this," she protested, but he said "nah, you only get better with practice," and stood up. With slight reluctance, she sat back down, adjusting her tank top for better modesty than before.

This time he was bolder. Standing behind her, when she began playing the video game again, he immediately slid his hands down inside her top, stretching the material for easy access (and thus completely negating her attempt one moment earlier at modesty) and began massaging firmly, even roughly. "Ow," she said, "stop it, I told you already, no playing with my boobies." But again, she made no overt move to actually impede him, in fact she leaned back slightly in a way that made access even easier. He reduced the manual pressure just slightly. "You are so hot," he whispered into her ear, "and you really know how to work a joystick, y'know?"

"It feels weird," she said, ignoring his double-entendre, "I mean it, stop playing with my boobs. I didn't come over here to get all, y'know, physical." "If it feels weird, then maybe it's working. That's what being turned on is like and you're just not used to it yet," he suggested. She continued working the controls of the video game, and said "it's too weird, it's too weird. You need to stop. I'm not kidding. I didn't come over here for this." But he continued his kneading of her little hooters. And within a moment, another screen character had come to a sad ending. "You think I suck, don't you," she accused. "I hope so," he replied leadingly.

She turned partway toward him. He didn't lift his hands from her chest, making for a slightly awkward pose for them both; and still, she did nothing overt to make him stop touching her there. He leaned forward to try to kiss her, but she turned her head away, yet without making it impossible to keep his hands on her front.

"Look, if you want something physical, how about just a back rub? I'll give you a nice massage. And then you can do me." "I can do you? You mean..." he leered. "No, silly, I mean give each other back rubs. I don't want this to get out of control." "OK, fine, but I'll rub your back first," he suggested. "No, I should massage you first. Cool you down some, otherwise all you'll do is play with my boobs and start stripping me. Trying to get me all nude. Sit down," she said firmly, and began to rise from the chair, at last causing him to lose contact with her chest.

He motioned behind himself. "Be better lying down," he said, and turned 180 degrees and plopped face down onto the twin-size bed next to the far wall, with his arms dangling over the foot of the bed and his bare feet on the pillow. "Well, OK," she said, and stood beside the bed, putting a hand between his shoulder blades, "but I'm not getting in bed with you." "Climb on, it'll be easier," he suggested, and with a laugh she said "I'm fine like this."

"Suit yourself," he said, and he abruptly but deftly lifted himself up and pulled his own t-shirt up and off, then lay back down. "Hey, I didn't mean for you to strip either," she protested, but he just laughed and said "come on, it's just my shirt. You're wound up too tight, Brie. Relax."

Standing beside the bed, then, she started massaging around his shoulder blades. He had a few pimples on his back, and she tried to avoid touching them, partly not to hurt him, partly because she figured it would be gross, especially if one popped.

"Nice, but come on, climb on top, and you can do it better. Don't be lame. I just want a reeeeeeal good backrub," he said. She kicked off her sandals, and the bed springs creaked again as she got on and straddled his lower waist.

She kneaded his shoulder muscles, worked her palms down his spine, and slowly worked back up his sides. He wasn't quite full grown yet, but nevertheless was well muscled, and already was a dominant lineman in Pop Warner. That meant there was a lot of him to massage. In any case it was less than five minutes before she said, "my hands are getting tired. Your turn."

He didn't object to this idea, and she climbed off of him and they traded places. "Put your arms up," he suggested, "like I did, it'll help you relax better."

"Got any others besides that Assassin one?" she asked as he straddled her, motioning toward the game console. "Sure," he said, his hands making quick passes down and up her tank top, "I got prolly a hundred. You can take a look later. I got some bootleg ones, too. I just found 'Navaho Cunt Hunt - Ravage The Savage'. Not exactly politically correct, but funny animation, especially if you know the cheats." "What's that?" she inquired. "Me find'um Navajo, pay'um hoe," he recited, "take'um to teepee, make'um suck weewee, fuck'um tush, scalp'um bush."

"You are gross, you know that?" she replied. "Nah," he said, it's funny." "That's not funny, it's sadistic," she fumed. "Oh, lighten up, it's just a game. You'd laugh," he said. "Yeah, except I'm not a perv," she replied. "Well, we can dig out Fuzzy Wuzzy Bunny Wabbit's Big Day At The Zoo, just for you, then", he said sarcastically. "It sounds like rape," she persisted, "or at least, video rape, practicing for the real thing." "Well," he countered, "you know what they say. When it's inetivable, lie back and enjoy it." "'Edible'? You mean like edible panties? I don't get it," she said. "Not edible, inetivable. You know. What happens, happens." "Well, I guess that's kind of what my mom says, too, although she phrases it different. She says nobody will believe a girl who goes and, uh, well, she'd shit if she knew I was here with you." "You're having fun, right?" he asked, kissing her quickly on the shoulder. "Sure," she said.

On the next upward pass of his hands, he slipped them underneath her tank top and caressed bare skin. "Stop that," she said. "Hey, I'm just giving you a better backrub. Just like you did for me. Relax."

As he moved his hands upward, they pulled the fabric up too, so that her waist was exposed. He started along her spine, but on each pass up and down he widened his reach, and each upward pass pulled the shirt just a bit further. After half a minute he was massaging her ribs. And after two more passes, he slipped his palms underneath her, and began playing with her nipples. "Hey," she said, "I said to stop that. If you can't behave yourself, I'm going to go home."

He brought his hands back up top, and stroked her shoulders and waist some more. Now each downward pass went lower and lower, and eventually he began massaging her buttocks exclusively. "Hey," she protested, "and not there either." He moved his hands up to her back again, and moved his hips forward as well, and began grinding his crotch into her butt while he massaged her shoulders and waist with his hands. "How's that?" he asked, "a double massage, does that feel good?" "What are you doing?" she asked, craning her neck to look over her shoulder, "are you trying to give yourself a boner on me, or something?"

"Too late," he chuckled, "that happened as soon as you walked in the door." He slid his hands to her sides again, and then underneath, and once again started playing with her nipples. "Stop it, I mean it," she said, but, as usual, she did not back up her words with any action, and she remained with her arms stretched above her head and hanging down at the elbows toward the floor. By now, her tank top was nearly all the way up. "Nah, this is fun," he said, still grinding his crotch against her buns, "doesn't it feel good?" "I didn't come here for this," she repeated. "Yeah, well, you need to loosen up, Brianna," he said, "you like it, you're just being shy. Here." And with that, he grasped the tank top, and pulled it firmly up and over her head.

"Hey!" she shouted and at last moved to resist, but doing so made it somehow easier for him to finish slipping the garment completely off of her arms. She was able to roll over in trying to escape his grasp, but now he had her partly pinned, face up. and though she struggled she couldn't get off of the bed. He tossed her shirt to the far corner of the room, then grasped one wrist in each hand.

"Stop stripping me. Gimme back my shirt," she protested. "No," he said, "I want to show you how it feels. You're going to love it." He pressed his lips to one puffy nipple, and began to suck. She pushed against his arms, and wriggled, but made no progress in freeing herself. "Lemme go. Gimme back my shirt," she said, sounding more of irritation than fear or panic. He switched to the other nipple and sucked harder. "That hurts! I wanna go home! Gimme back my shirt!" she repeated. Her struggling diminished, however, when he ceased sucking and just licked.

He went back and forth, a few seconds at a time, between her pubescent breasts, with this more gentle style, and in time her struggles ceased entirely, although she continued to say quietly "I mean it" and "I wanna go home" and "gimme back my shirt". He contorted his body, keeping his mouth at her chest and bringing his hips up to hers, and began grinding his crotch, and she gradually responded in rhythm.

He stopped licking and moved up to try to kiss her, but she turned her face away from him, and resumed her demands that he stop. He got up and stood on the floor, and she quickly got up too and made a move toward her shirt, but he blocked her way. In almost one motion, he unbuttoned and unzipped, and dropped his jeans and boxers, kicking them toward the door.

She stared at his nakedness. "Gimme back my shirt, you ... retard! You think just because you show me a big peen that I'll suddenly fall all over you? I wanna go home, retard!" She was aware enough that her brother's friend had always been a poor student, though by no means a clinical case, and she was certain the epithet would sting.

"Hey! Don't call me that. Come on," he said, "you need to loosen up. Lemme suck your titties real good now. They're real cute."

She had nowhere to go, and though she tried to climb around him over the bed he quickly backed her against the outside wall of the bedroom and pinned her wrists above her head with one hand.

He tried again to kiss her, but she rapidly turned her head side to side in such a way he feared losing a front tooth. So he crouched slightly and began sucking a nipple, taking almost all of her small breast into his mouth. "Lemme go, you asshole, I mean it," she said at first. But after a few seconds of his renewed sucking she stopped protesting, and he felt her arms no longer resist against his hand. He continued holding on though, just to make sure, and with his free right hand he now explored under the waistband of her low cut jeans. Switching to sucking her right nipple, he was more easily able to work his hand inside her pants a few inches, just enough to barely reach hair but no farther, so he worked at the snap until it popped open and then he pulled the zipper down, and was able to gain access to the soft hair under her bikini briefs. "You're stripping me, stop it, I mean it!" she objected, but she did not really struggle as his finger probed her cleft while he still sucked determinedly at her nip.